


Pouring

by atheldamn



Series: Prompts & Requests [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Combeferre is a nerd, Couch Cuddles, Holidays, M/M, Prompt Fill, could be interpreted platonically or romantically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheldamn/pseuds/atheldamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling a prompt from tumblr, also <a href="http://switchferre.tumblr.com/post/112227260594/courferre-11">here</a>.</p><p>Courfeyrac blatantly ignores weather warnings. Combeferre is smug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pouring

"This is bullshit."

"I’m not going outside in a storm, Courfeyrac." Courfeyrac turned from the window, pouting, arms folded, and glared at Combeferre who’d curled himself in an armchair with a book.

"There is no storm! Look!" He was right, there was nothing yet. The forecast had warned of gale force winds and driving rain, the whole nine yards, but the sun was currently pounding on the beach, glinting off the sea and kicking hazes up from the pavements. "It’s amazing out, please, I just wanna go swimming." 

"No."

"God, you’re no fun at all," Courfeyrac whined, petulant but mostly playful. "I’m going for a swim. There’ll be someone on the beach who actually likes the outdoors. And don’t worry." He placed a kiss on the top of Combeferre’s head as he passed him on his way to the door. "I’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon."

"Don’t get blown away," Combeferre told him, not looking up from his book, but Courfeyrac could tell from even his voice that he was smiling.

The storm came out of nowhere. It was a dark smudge way inland that Courfeyrac barely even took notice off, and then it was there, overhead, thunder rumbling and rain falling in great sheets. The air seemed to fizz with the static.

The others on the beach, locals and tourists alike, poured back to their houses or cars, some of them shouting to each other about leaving it too late, and so Courfeyrac followed, gathering his stuff and waving his new friends goodbye, phone numbers new on his phone. It took him less than five minutes to get back to the apartment they’d rented, but in that time, the wind had whipped itself up into a frenzy. Sand seemed to chase him, pricking exposed skin, and he all but ran the last few hundred yards.

He fumbled with the keys for a moment before the door opened anyway, Combeferre pulling him in and shoving a clean towel at him.

"Don’t say it," Courfeyrac warned, and Combeferre smirked, bolting the door.

"Wouldn’t dream of it."

"Oh god, warm." The towel had just come from the tumble dryer; Combeferre must have seen the storm coming and put it in there for him. Courfeyrac was grateful, and wrapped it around himself with a series of pleased noises. "You’re an angel."

"I know," Combeferre replied, returning to his armchair and picking up his book.

"I mean it. You are a saint, a wonder, my hero, my knight in shining armour and warm towels," he continued, scrubbing at his hair and pulling dry clothes from his suitcase.

"Please stop."

"You love it." Combeferre just made a noise to acknowledge he’d heard. Must be embarrassed.

Courfeyrac changed quickly, spending a few minutes too long just stood in the warm towel and revelling in it, before returning. Combeferre had switched on a light for him to read by, the black swells of cloud outside practically blocking out the sun. Rain drove against the windows and the trees lining the boardwalk bent and curved at almost right angles. As he stood watching, a great flash of lighting cut across the sky, thunder following only moments after.

"It’s right overhead!" Courfeyrac loved storms. There was a sofa beside Combeferre, and Courfeyrac grabbed it, dragging it towards the glass doors onto the balcony.

"What are you doing?" Combeferre asked, looking up from his book and frowning.

"I’m going to watch the storm," Courfeyrac explained as though it was obvious. He grabbed a blanket from the bed and switched off the light.

"Hey," Combeferre whined, putting down his book. Success.

"You can read any time. Come watch the storm with me."

"But why?"

"Combeferre, you’re the biggest nerd I know. More than that, you’re a natural… nature-based nerd," he tried to explain with a vague, wavy hand gesture. Combeferre’s smile was wry, and he showed no sign of helping. "Come on, don’t leave me hanging. You can’t tell me you don’t love a storm."

"… I do like storms," Combeferre said eventually, removing his glasses and approaching the sofa, his own blanket around his shoulders.

"So be a nerd. Watch the storm. Geek out," Courfeyrac grinned. Combeferre rolled his eyes.

"If you never say that again, I will."

"Cross my heart, hope to die." To prove his sincerity, he made a grand show of crossing his heart. Combeferre rolled his eyes, but he relented, lying down on the sofa beside him, ignoring Courfeyrac’s triumphant noise.

Another bolt flashed above them, and Courfeyrac jumped, burrowing closer to Combeferre. The other wound an arm around him and Courfeyrac almost wished he’d pretended to be scared, if it got him more cuddles.

After a few minutes, Combeferre finally let go, starting slowly but eventually letting loose a torrent of knowledge and facts and tidbits that he knew. Courfeyrac wasn’t a scientific man, but he lapped it all up, letting him talk, loving the way his face lit up when he thought of something else he could tell him. After all, Combeferre would always be more interesting than any storm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading!
> 
> My [tumblr](http://switchferre.tumblr.com)


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